EYE DON'T HAVE IT

"Look me in the eye, boy!"  "He met my gaze unflinchingly."  "Their eyes locked the moment she walked in the room."  "All eyes turned obediently to page 56 in the textbook."

So why don't people want to make eye contact anymore?

I tried one time to explain to a friend the difference between looking and staring, and it really is just a matter of time. So when passing another shopper in aisle A28 of Target (cosmetics, by the way), a glance is fine, a nod of the head is almost forward, but actually LOOKING STRAIGHT AT THEIR FACE.... OMGNO!!!!!

I have a couple of theories as to why. We as women have unwittingly allowed ourselves to view each other as competitors in some sort of ultimate Survivor episode, vying for attention from each other, scouting out others' weaknesses, and inwardly laughing at women who dress unfashionably. And this happens regardless of is we  are happily married, content with our present boyfriend or enjoying being single - - 'other' women are our enemy... at least in casual, public interactions.

So I, of course, am a source of immense satisfaction for almost all women I pass - I'm usually in baggy jeans, an old sweatshirt torn (not tastefully) at the shoulder, no makeup, and my old-lady reading glasses perched on my nose, and my hair looks like I just rolled out of bed (which 95% of time is true).

And since I am the grandmotherly age now, it's easier for me to strike up conversations because "oh, this nice confused old lady is talking about something; I should be polite and pretend to listen to her."

What's that expression, age over beauty, right?

So, the whole reason I am babbling about this subject is I am constantly bewildered by the number of people who walk by my truck when it is parked, glance at it, obviously notice it is literally covered headlight to tailgate by 153 bumper statements (well, maybe they can't tell at one glance that it's 153 unless they are some sort of math savant).

But then, just like in the store aisles, they immediately look away and walk past it without another glance.

Now, I could be much more accepting of this behavior except that when I am on the road, driving my moving billboard, without exception EVERYone reads the stickers. People driving behind me - people who get right in my blind spot to read - in my rear-view mirror at traffic lights, I can see their lips moving (did you know a whole lot of people do that when they read?).

I wonder if it is because someone might notice them reading, and they are afraid they will get beaten up by association - could anyone think I put them on as secret bumper stickers that no one else is supposed to read?

It confuses me - and I already am more than enough confused.

NOW AT THE TWILIGHT OF LIFE

I am now approaching the end. It's been 54 years of:

- Moving 29 times
- Occupying various households with 32 (36?) different people
- Probably 26 years of eating nothing but Taco Bell, McDonald's and KFC
- Residing in eight states (of the U.S., not states of mind - then there were be many more than eight, wouldn't there?)
- Working 34 different jobs, at 29 places
- Living in two countries (although some people would argue that California and Hawaii are their own independent nations)
- Being personally responsible for Nestles staying in business by my chocolate consumption
- Promoting peaceful resolutions in multiple tense situations by either bursting into tears or hiding in the closet
- Using 1,932 lbs. printer toner in printing affirmations, sayings, quotes and personal posters to keep me from staying huddled below my sheets every day

And today I realized I own every single thing that I ever wanted.

I have two horses. I have 87 funky little magnets. I have every file folder that has ever been created. I own two PCs, and four laptops (none of which work right now, by the way). I have 32 years worth of journals, diaries, and scraps of paper with bad poetry and/or lyrics for my descendants to plow through (sorry, kids). I have two absolutely incredible grandchildren who are the brightest, greatest and most wonderful individuals to grace this planet.

However, is any of this going to keep me from visiting Target tomorrow afternoon?

Whomever dies with the most toys, still dies -- but yes, more playthings are going to come my way before I kick the bucket.